Maybe, Just Maybe
by AnonymousCloud
Summary: 'There was no meaning to life without smiles.' Here in her arms, he finally understood. A one shot set before ACC.


Brows furrowed. Lips pursed. Eyes distant.

She stood behind the counter busy chopping a pile of crisp celery stalks, while he sat at his usual seat with his usual drink scrutinizing her every move.

He knows that look. He had that look. He'd also seen that look on a lot of people especially here in Edge, where people are still struggling to rebuild their lives.

It's quite common these days, worry, sorrow, loneliness…

_But not her._ He thought.

Not that woman behind the counter skillfully wielding a kitchen knife. No, he'd never seen her upset or depressed, annoyed maybe, raising two kids while managing a bar can take a toll on someone sometimes but…

_Not her._

Always cheerful, always happy with eyes full of warmth and concern for her family…their family…this family…

They all had their own families once. They all lost them too. He wondered if that's what's keeping them together. He also thought if that's what's keeping them at arms length from each other.

They're an odd family…if you could even call them _that_. Four people with no blood relation, bound mostly by wounds of the past, a family? According to her they are one…

_And nothing could ever change her mind!_

_"We can help each other as long as we're together, that's what families do, right?"_

_As long as we're together…_He mused as her voice echoed in his thoughts.

She stood across the room from the counter, brows now raised, lips slightly parted, and quizzical burgundy orbs directed at him.

"Something wrong? Are you alright?"

He jumped at the sound of her voice pulling him from his ruminations. Startled, he averted his gaze to the glass resting on his hands realizing that he had been staring. How long was he gawking at her? He shook his head and took a huge gulp trying to divert his attention to something…anything, hoping she would look away.

Her features softened and she lets out a soft giggle, amused at his reaction, then turned her attention to dicing brightly orange carrots in front of her.

Hey, he made her smile. He felt like returning one but decided not to, after all, she's not looking anymore.

He continued to watch her though, from the corner of his eyes he watched her. Her brows once again furrowed and the upward curve of her lips now form a straight line and is threatening to curve the other way. He also frowned, disappointed at the sight. He loved her smiles, her smiles that wipe all worries and doubts away and reassures him that everything is going to be okay. She could uplift anyone's spirit with just that. That's probably why a lot of people liked going to Seventh Heaven. When she smiles, you can't help but smile too. It's contagious…

_Like the stigma?_

People said it's contagious, though it's not. But people would rather believe myths than the truth. So the number of people that go to Seventh Heaven lessened due to a certain boy living in the bar who got the disease. She felt bad about it, he knew. Though she doesn't complain about losing patrons and she would never talk about it, somehow he still felt that it bothered her.

_Lucky boy__… _

He found himself grinning at the thought.

A warm hand was on his shoulder and as if a reflex, his head jerked up. Their eyes met, his blue reflecting on her burgundy, which now are glistening, compared to a while ago. She leaned over and pointed at his glass, which is now empty.

"Need a refill?"

Before he could say anything, his glass was already full. How dare she assume that he wants another glass! But she knew…she just knows.

She gave his shoulder a light squeeze and there it is, that smile, warm and genuine. Lately, those smiles were rare, most of the time broken, sometimes forced.

His eyes trailed her as she went behind the counter to resume her previous task.

"Th-thank you!" His voice was hoarse from lack of use.

She stopped midway and turned to flash a smile at him, this time he smiled back ever so slightly.

"You're welcome!" She replied cheerfully as she trotted back to the counter where a heap of veggies are waiting for her.

If there was one thing she loved doing, he'd guess, it's looking after the ones she loves.

_Love? Does she love him?_ What makes him think that she does?

He shook his head and corrected himself. Looking after the ones she cared for, now that he was sure of. That made him wonder, _are caring and loving the same?_ He didn't care. He felt loved and that's what matters.

He grinned at his glass now halved of its content. Trying to hide the forming smile, he lifted it to his lips to take a sip while eyes wandered towards the direction of the counter across the room.

She noticed and met his gaze. Nervous that she's caught him again, he tried to finish his drink in one gulp, but choked in it instead. She laughed. But when he coughed, she stopped and motioned to go over to him.

"I'm fine!" he assured her.

_Now you made her worry. _His guilt was blaming him.

"If you keep drinking like that, you'll be full before supper." Her hands were at her hips as she walked towards him. "No more refills for you, mister." She said with a mockingly stern voice as she snatched the glass from his hand. He glared at her back while she walked towards the sink. She glanced at him over her shoulder striving to stay serious while fighting the smile forming on her lips. She still finds it hard to reprimand any of them.

_She's just too nice._

"Thwak!" The chopping board grunted as the knife hit its surface with force. She's back at the counter preparing what seem to be ingredients for supper. _When did she move from the sink?_

Brows furrowed, lips pursed, eyes distant. She seemed lost in thought...again. She paused chopping for a while, tightened her grip on the knife, took a deep breath and resumed slowly guiding the sharp blade to slice through purple bulbs.

_What? Wasn't she smiling a while ago?_

She was always happy, always smiling but not today, not recently, and that bothers him…a lot.

_What's upsetting her? _He wants to know.

But for some unknown reason, he does. Deep inside, he knows the cause. And guilt has been eating him away bit by bit like that stigma.

He bit his lip.

_I worry her…_

_I make it difficult for her… _

_I take her for granted…_

In those small ways that he thought were harmless…

_I hurt her…_

_A sob…_ He turned his head to the direction of the sound.

The knife was resting on the counter and beside it, her hand, balled into fists. Shoulders were hunched from their usual perfect posture. Her chin dipped to her chest and curtains of dark strands obstruct his view of her wine-colored eyes. She sniffed.

_Is she crying?_

His chest hurt like a huge sword stab his heart.

_…because of me?_

She might've felt worried and confused eyes were on her so she moved, lifted her right hand and wiped a tear with the back of her hand. She forced a smile and continued to dry her eyes. "It's nothing. I've been chopping onions." She explained with a strained chuckle. He just nodded in reply. He didn't know what to do. He knew it wasn't just those stupid onions. Although he did curse those onions for making her cry…he cursed himself for making her cry.

* * *

><p>Later that night, his mind was restless but his body was still, lying flat on his bed, unmoving. He was gazing at the ceiling as if trying to win a staring contest against it. But, tough luck, the ceiling is winning. He finally blinked, got off his bed and grabbed his bag on the floor.<p>

_There is no other way…_

He tried to convince himself. He tiptoed across the hall quietly so no one would notice.

He is leaving. Leaving this bar they started calling home, leaving this comfort, this family. _He is leaving._

He stopped at the door beside the stairs. He fought himself not to peek in to say goodbye but like the staring contest, he gave in. The door was ajar so there was no difficulty trying to turn the knob and make a ruckus. _Those door knobs needed to be changed_, he noted.

Free of the door knob dilemma, he slipped in. At first glance, she was sleeping peacefully. He's glad. Now he had second thoughts of leaving them behind. But, _No!_ He's adamant with his decision as he mentally scolded himself, trying to convince his self that there is no other way.

He inched closer but halted when the floorboards creaked. His eyes widened and his heart beat faster which is his cue to retreat before she wakes. He started walking at the balls of his feet to lessen the noise of his footsteps that seemed like explosions in the silence of the night.

Before he turned, he shot one last look over his shoulder. Tears stained the pillows as well as the pale soft skin on her cheeks that seemed to glow in the moonlight. But then she moved. He was so startled, he froze. She seemed to be flinching in her sleep. _Bad dream, perhaps?_

He couldn't stop himself from moving closer, approaching the side of the bed. It's as if his feet suddenly had a mind of its own. He knelt at the side of her bed. He placed his pack beside him as quietly as possible.

He brushed her bangs away even before he realized he was doing so. Her eyes darted open as she reacted to his touch. He forgot that she was a light sleeper.

She was surprised and for a while she gazed at him. Her wine-red eyes danced in the barely moonlit room. She sat up and a tear escaped the confines of her lashes.

She's caught him now but he had to stand by his decision. Before she could speak, his thumb brushed her cheek wiping a tear away. She blushed in the realization that he knew she was crying. He caught her now.

She sighed and smiled that loving smile of hers. He felt like melting. All his doubts, his pain, his guilt seemed to have melted away. He felt welcomed and loved. How is he supposed to leave now?

"Hey, wha-"

Before she could even complete her sentence, arms suddenly wrapped around her waist, holding her tight in a warm embrace, as he sat on her bed beside her. Startled at first, but then her features softened and reciprocated by wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

It's warm, it's loving, it's genuine, it's her hug…it's Tifa. How could he ever doubt the woman's feelings toward him? He felt guilt again, this time for doubting her.

"I'm sorry." he uttered almost inaudibly. But it's Tifa, so she heard it quite clear but she didn't speak. Instead, she wrapped her free arm around him and squeezed tighter. He felt her sigh.

"Where are you going?" she finally asked with a voice as soft as the moonlight in her room. She probably noticed his clothes, and the bag on the floor.

"You were having a nightmare weren't you?" he tried to stall, avoiding her query. He could feel her heart skip a beat and drum at a faster pace.

"A little. It was nothing." She replied.

"No!" he pulled away from the embrace. She was taken aback and stared at him blinking. He himself was shocked with his reaction but he braved on to finally speak what is in his heart.

"It's **not** nothing!" If there was one thing he knew, it was keeping your emotions buried and have them creep up on you on your sleep. He has them almost every night too. But then she hears him and comes to his side and comforts him. Now, it's her turn to be comforted.

_But how?_ How will he comfort her? He's at a loss. He just sat there, chin dipped to his chest. He started to feel warm liquid blurring his vision but he winked them away. He can't break down in front of her especially when he's doing the comforting.

She held his hand and cupped his chin and lifted it to meet her eyes. She smiled and brushed stubborn strands from his forehead. She pulled him close into a tight and warm hug.

He wrapped his arms around her waist again. She rested her head on his and smiled. They remained like that for a while. She then moved and kissed the top of his head.

"Thank you," she said. "Denzel."

"For what?" his almost inaudible muffled voice asked.

"For being here."

He smiled so wide. He didn't understand entirely what she meant. But it doesn't matter…he felt loved…and needed.

How can he leave now?

_No!_ He's adamant! He will never leave his family, especially not now…not ever. He will fight.

"You know, you remind me of a boy..." She told him as she stroked his back.

He didn't ask who. He knew. Who else would it be?

_He_ is her hero. _He_ is his hero. But for now, while _he's_ gone, maybe…just maybe…

_I could be hers…_

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** _Whew! This is the first one-shot I wrote since my dormancy for almost a decade. It is difficult to write without the names and specifics. I tried to make it seem like it was Cloud's POV but it was actually Denzel's. I hope I got that across. Anyway, I'm just rambling. Hope you enjoyed and reviews are very much appreciated! ^^_


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